The Secret of Moonacre Valley
by mellowenglishgal
Summary: Maria has an elder-sister, Diana, who goes with her to Moonacre: Two Moon Princesses, one without the Valley's pride, and closer in age to Robin Du Noir, how can she help her uncle and Maria? ADOPT PLEASE!
1. Chapter 1

**A.N.**: Since the film-makers decided to mush several decades together—i.e. Maria wearing a leg-of-mutton sleeve (1890s-1907ish) with a horrendously unfinished 1870s skirt (the crinolette would _never_ be seen as part of a finished dress; it was an underskirt)—I have decided to take my own creative licenses—if only so that Diana can play _Clair de Lune_ though (with my story set in 1878 where Eliza Merryweather's tombstone said she died in the early 1870s) it wasn't published until 1903.

This is my take on what would have happened if Maria had had an elder sister who _didn't_ have the pride everyone else in the Merryweather strain did. Maria's elder-sister's name is Diana and she is played in my head by Amy Smart.

Also, if I don't get bored, I may incorporate _The Spiderwick Chronicles_ into this story after the curse on Moonacre is lifted—maybe have one of Robin's friends (Jered, maybe?) be a nephew of Sir Conan Spiderwick or something in Moonacre Valley.

* * *

_June__ 17, 1877_

* * *

"Lord, we commit the body of your son, Colonel George Herbert Merryweather to the ground…"

Diana took a deep shuddering breath and released it, clutching her sister's hand in her own. The prayer was finished and Diana and Maria both stepped forward with their blood-red roses and each dropped one into the pit, where they rested with broken petals on the polished wood of the lacquered black coffin.

She dropped her own rose with Maria's and brushed her lace-gloved hands over her black jacquard skirt and glanced away from the freshly-engraved tombstone at a tumbledown marble gazebo. There was someone clad all in black in a strange bowler-hat and a strip of black fabric across his nose leaning, just so, against one of the elaborate Ionic columns, dark eyes fixed on their party—on _her_. She shivered and turned back to her father's grave and took her place beside her younger sister.

She licked her lips, tasting the saltiness of her tears, and glanced over Maria's ribbon-strewn caramel hair and almost jumped. The man, or boy, had disappeared. But she couldn't shake the feeling of having eyes on her. Something _karked_ loudly in the trees above and made her shiver.

* * *

Since the carriage had already been sold off several weeks ago to cover a debt Papa had against one of his regiment members, they had to walk to the attorney's office. It was a grand old place filled with grand old furniture and grand old men: their heels echoed on the polished parquet floor as they were led to the office of Colonel Merryweather's attorney. Diana walked in front, Ms Heliotrope behind with Miss Maria.

"Ah, Miss Merryweather," the attorney said, upon Diana being admitted into the office with Ms Heliotrope. Diana was offered a seat in front of the attorney's desk and her sister flanked her, standing behind, as she sat, feeling herself growing smaller and smaller as the attorney read out her father's will.

"_This_ being the last will and testament of Colonel George Herbert Merryweather of London," the attorney read out with a sigh of defeat.

"H-he—He lost it _all_?" Ms Heliotrope squeaked. Diana sat in silence, feeling a decidedly heavy weight resting on her. She, alone of the two daughters and numerous staff of the family, knew how much trouble Colonel Merryweather had been in. She had written herself to Uncle Benjamin to ask for help—it was the only time her father had ever struck her when he found out, when Uncle Benjamin had written her father with offers of money.

He'd had too much stubborn pride to accept help from his own brother—he'd done one sordid deal with the wrong person one time too many, and here they all were because of it.

"Mm," the attorney nodded solemnly.

"Including the house?" Ms Heliotrope asked. Diana had settled herself with the notion that nothing would be different now that Papa had gone and gotten himself killed—she had written to Uncle Benjamin the day Papa died to plead that he take in her and her sister should the need arise. She took a shaky breath and wiped her cheeks.

"No—" Maria blurted obstinately, and Diana glanced up to her younger sister, to see her cheeks glistening with tear-marks and her eyes red. "No—Papa _can't_ have been in London. When he wrote to us and said he was coming home, he wouldn't arrive—and not…"

They were penniless. Diana had had a long time to get used to the idea—she was hardly a materialistic girl, but very sentimental, and she knew they would have to sell most of their possessions to pay off her father's debts. Their belongings could be salvaged, of course, but…there would be no more brand-new pretty frocks sent over from Paris, no luxurious parties with champagne and gorgeous beaux. Not for her sister, anyway. At seventeen, Diana had already had a little of her share of _that_ kind of fun.

"Oh—well, your father _did_ leave you girls _this_," the attorney said, reaching into a deep drawer of his polished mahogany desk that matched the panelling on the walls. "As your inheritance." It was a book, a large leather-bound, dusty book studded with something that looked like pearls. Diana reached for it and felt it rest heavily in her arms as she read the gold-embossed title on the cover.

"'The Ancient Chronicles of Moonacre Valley'?" _Strange volume_, she thought, examining the binding. She'd never seen a book decorated like this—and Diana spent most of her time (when she wasn't at the park on fine days) in her Papa's library. She'd never noticed this book in that dark, musty room, and she was sure she would have recognised the title.

* * *

Diana sat at the pretty dressing-table that had belonged to her mother, partially undressed and toying with the ribbons of her chemise. The wardrobes had been emptied and there were clothes still strewn all over the room, on the chairs and little tables: there were books that needed packing and portraits of the family that needed to be safe-guarded for travelling. Ms Heliotrope sat on the brass-headed bed Diana and Maria shared despite the number of rooms, and it was altogether a very depressing scene.

"I know this is hard," Ms Heliotrope said, struggling to find the right things to say: Maria had been stubborn even as a baby and now she sat with a set jaw and hard eyes. Diana sighed softly and traced the swirling pattern embossed in gold on the book their father had left them. "But you know, I-I'm _sure_ did…did _love_ you…He just, um…and you know, everybody does have to go out on their own at some point in their lives, and—"

"Miss Heliotrope, I'm _fine_," Maria blurted, quite loudly. Diana glanced over her shoulder at her sister, still sitting in her fine black dress—the fine black dress Diana had worn to their mother's funeral when Maria was still a little baby—with her hair still dressed up in those black ribbons, with the moonstone pendant draped around her neck as it always was. "_Really_."

"Yes, mm…" Ms Heliotrope nodded, rising fiddling with her gloved fingers. Diana watched her leave the room in the mirror and turned her head to the bedroom-door. Ms Heliotrope looked in once and nodded.

"Goodnight, Ms Heliotrope," Diana said softly, and Ms Heliotrope nodded and closed the door behind her. Diana sighed and proceeded to undress fully, groaning with relief as she undid the laces of her corset and draped it over her trunk, ready for the morning with the pretty little travelling suit Papa had bought her when they'd gone to Brighton, before all of this had happened. She slipped into her pretty white nightgown and started unpinning her hair in front of the mirror. Seventeen, she had come out into society last Season and had worn her hair up since then; Maria still had three more years until Ms Heliotrope would let her wear her hair up, but she liked playing with Diana's hair. Diana combed out the golden curls she had inherited from her mother and tied her hair in a long braid down her back with a little length of shimmering opalescent pink ribbon.

"You knew, didn't you," Maria said quietly, sitting despondent on the bed as Diana pulled on her little pink-and-white embroidered bed-jacket. She flicked the braid over her shoulder and nibbled on the inside of her cheek, watching Maria. She sat down on the bed behind Maria and started tenderly untying the ribbons worked into her hair.

"Yes, I did know," she admitted bitterly. She felt Maria's frown instead of seeing it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked hoarsely.

"It's not the sort of thing you relish telling your younger-sister," Diana said, wincing as one of the bows held obstinately. That they had no money and probably no more fine frocks and fancy parties and the trinkets their Papa had given them over the years would probably be sold at auction to clear their father's debt--at least, they might've been if Uncle Benjamin hadn't been so kind.

That tomorrow morning, a carriage would arrive, sent from their uncle, Sir Benjamin Merryweather's estate in West-England. They would leave London, the place Maria loved so much, behind for the countryside they knew nothing of. Though Diana had always preferred the pretty parks to any other places in London, she had never been to the countryside: their Papa had never been back to his childhood home since he first left it at seventeen. She had never met Uncle Benjamin and Papa had spoken of him so little she didn't know anything about him, at all.

Maria sighed heavily and shook out her hair when the last bow was removed and Diana combed out the curls of her caramel-coloured hair before tying it in a braid and helping Maria off with her dress.

"Why didn't Papa tell me?" Maria asked, heartbroken. Diana licked her lips and helped Maria out of her little trainer-corset.

"You think he opened up to _me_ about all this?" Diana chuckled softly, shaking her head; her lovely Ragdoll kitty Celestine purred and climbed into her lap as soon as she sat down on the bed again with the book. "It was a debt-collector who told me what was going on, when he came to ask his money back." He had been _very_ rude about it all, and Diana had only just found enough coins in Papa's study-vault to pay him off without making a fuss.

"Enough—that was Papa's problem," she sighed, patting the bed beside her; Maria climbed into bed with her and nestled her head in Diana's shoulder, hugging her waist. They had always shared a bed, especially lately with the cost of coals being so high last winter. "It isn't our concern any more. Uncle Benjamin is sending a carriage tomorrow, and we had better get some rest." _As soon as she's asleep, I'll go and grab everything_, she thought. There was no-one else left in the house besides the housekeeper and their nursemaid Ms Heliotrope. Maria touched the catch on the leather-bound book and Diana opened it, smoothing out the first page and touching the hard, embossed leather bookmark.

"We'll be fine, you and me, no matter where we are," Diana said softly, looking down at her sister's wavy hair. "Together we can do _anything_." They always had done. Things happened to them that didn't happen to other people, to other girls. All the girls Diana knew had perfectly flawless fair skin, the product of years inside doing needlecraft, so much so that their delicate white skin showed the blue veins beneath. Diana and Maria had always had fair, glowing skin like mother-of-pearl in sunshine. And animals came up to Diana, completely calm and tame without being trained—she had had numerous pets that Ms Heliotrope hadn't approved off: an injured hedgehog she'd nursed, a nightingale who came and went as he pleased and always knew where to find her, and her tiny fawn French Bulldog puppy Tybalt should have been drowned because he was so small. He snuffled softly in his sleep at the foot of the bed on Diana's feet and Diana sighed as she smoothed the first page of the story. Maria always liked Diana reading to her. She did _all_ the voices, like their mother used to.

"'_Once upon a perfect time_,'" she began, "'_many hundreds of years ago, when the old magic still clung to Moonacre Valley like early-morning mist, there was a young woman whose skin gleamed as pale as a star and whose heart was as pure as moonlight. Such was her bravery, and goodness, she was beloved by Nature, as if she were its own daughter_.'" Diana swore the watercolour picture on the right-hand page was moving, showing the story as she told it. "'_One fateful night, the moon blessed her with an extraordinary gift that would change the magic of the valley forever—the moon-pearls_.

"'_From that day forth, she was known as the Moon Princess_,'" Diana read, turning the page. "'_Two ancient families lived in harmony at the edge of the valley, sharing nature's bounty. Daughter of the Du Noir clan, the Moon Princess fell deeply in love and was to be married to Sir Wrolf Merryweather. Her father, Sir William Du Noir, blessed the union by presenting the couple with a rare, black lion._

"'_In turn, Sir Wrolf gave his bride a unicorn, lured from the wild, white-horses of the sea. Her heart overflowing with happiness, the Moon Princess revealed the magical pearls to both families._'" The picture was of the Moon Princess, flawlessly beautiful in a white gown, holding a lovely jewel casket and the pearls linked around her fingers, holding them aloft, bathed in moonlight. Maria squirmed sleepily beside Diana and her breathing was slowing. "'_Legend told of their unique power, so strong the pearls would grant every wish, both good and evil_.'"

Diana closed the book softly and slipped carefully from under Maria's hold, and for another two hours, Diana flitted around the house, securing everything the two girls had ever held dear in mounds of their undergarments and soft shawls to protect them.

* * *

When the housekeeper woke them both the next morning with creamy porridge and jam and toast, Diana was tired but a little happy. She had always wanted to go to the countryside, to see what it was like without the bustling carriages and towering buildings and the constant noise.

She helped Maria change into a duck-egg blue frock embroidered with orange orchids and slipped the moonstone pendant onto a long turquoise velvet ribbon, tying her hair back with a little length of the same colour ribbon before turning to herself while Maria ate her breakfast.

Diana loved pretty frocks and looking lovely; she was a very beautiful girl and she had a little of vanity: her Papa told her she looked like her mother and that had always made her feel lovelier inside than she looked on the outside: she picked out the travelling suit Papa had bought her: unlike Maria's rather unfinished-looking gowns, Diana's dresses were absolutely divine, suiting a slender hourglass figure, the skirts smoothed to the backs of her thighs and then sweeping the floor with a generous train from rich folds at the back. She liked simple elegance and delicacy, not Maria's overindulgent silk and velvet-bow concoctions.

Today's outfit was a soft fawn cashmere dress embroidered with little golden starflowers, the overskirt draped up and back to give an apron effect and show the elaborate ruffles beneath in a glowing golden-brown silk. She coiled and braided her hair into a thick bun at the back of her head and secured it with one of her favourite combs—tortoiseshell, decorated with gold leaf, and secured the gold ribbon of her little hat decorated with little silk starflowers and gold silk ribbons, beneath her chin before picking up her parasol and her little beaded reticule and her carpet-bag, with Celestine's head poking out of it, and Tybalt tucked under her other arm, and made her way downstairs with Maria, taking one last look at the house they had loved for so long.

The housekeeper was waiting on the steps for them, and Diana sighed as she bent her head and kissed the loyal old woman's cheek. A small carriage, dirty from travelling, stood below, drawn by two lovely brown mares, and the driver stood waiting as a footman secured Diana's and Maria's trunks to the back of the carriage. He was distinctly from the country, in an eclectic costume that comprised several pieces of indiscriminate origin, but most were colourful, and he wore a dried posy of flowers tucked into the band around the crown of his floppy leather hat. He had a kind face and smiled when he took his hat off.

"You'll be Miss Diana Merryweather, then," he said, and Diana smiled as she sank down a few more steps to greet him.

"Diana," she said with a smile, offering her hand; he shook it and smiled. "I'm very pleased to meet you."

"I am Digweed, your uncle Sir Benjamin's steward," he said, smiling as he shook her hand. "And that be your sister Miss Maria, then?"

"Yes, and—Ms Heliotrope?" Diana glanced up when Ms Heliotrope appeared with many rustlings of her ribbons and tape-ties, her arms loaded with little bags and suitcases.

"My man? _Quick_!" Digweed jumped up the steps and took Ms Heliotrope's luggage, pausing long enough that Ms Heliotrope walloped him with her cane to get him to hurry up.

"Ms Heliotrope?" Diana frowned, as Maria took her place beside her, holding her large carpetbag.

"Maria—my sweet, darling Diana," Ms Heliotrope sighed, glancing at each of them with a soft, wistful smile of the only motherly figure they'd had in their lives since Diana was nine. "When your dear Mama died, I promised her faithfully that I would take care of you both. _So_ I'm _not_ going to abandon you now. If you're going to live with your uncle amongst the _rigours_ of the countryside, then I shall be there with you both." Diana smiled, leaning forward to hug Ms Heliotrope, avoiding the feather stuck in her bonnet with the curious painted cameo brooch that was always on Ms Heliotrope's person.

"Thank you, Ms Heliotrope," she said, kissing her governess's cheek. For her to sacrifice a life in London with many a richer family to live with them in the countryside—and Ms Heliotrope had never let it be mistaken what _she_ thought of fresh air and exercise for a young girl—then she was truly devoted to them. As a _mother_ should be.

Diana took one last look at her home as Ms Heliotrope guided Maria to the carriage and lifted her things into the little carriage: she took the forward-facing side of the carriage, with Tybalt and Celestine, and Ms Heliotrope and Maria took the backward-facing bench.

London passed them by, slowly at first through the crowded streets filled with carriages and people shopping along Bond Street, then faster through the less-crowded boroughs. Diana had her favourite book of Shakespeare's sonnets out on her lap, stroking Celestine, and watched the scenery fly past, turning gradually from soot-blackened brick to the most brilliant emerald-greens and dreamlike blues.

* * *

**A.N.**: Please review!

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N.**: Hiya! I just wanted to post a note to say I've changed the ending of this chapter--so that Diana and Maria have separate bedrooms now (You'll see why later ;D and I think that's it). Enjoy, and please review!

* * *

Diana had never suffered from illness when travelling: that burden rested solely on poor Ms Heliotrope, with her weak stomach, and Diana was glad Maria sat opposite her when Ms Heliotrope started fluttering her hands near her mouth, her cheeks ashen. If the roads weren't as horrendous as they departed civilisation for beautiful pastures, Ms Heliotrope wouldn't be suffering so much.

The sun was shining, and as they left the city and neared Moonacre Valley, somewhere in West England, Diana thought what a shame it was they were confined to the carriage, being bumped and jostled about for hours on end. They stopped at a nondescript inn for a quick luncheon and then Digweed set them off on their journey again.

Diana was reading her favourite of Shakespeare's sonnets, number _CXVI_ when Ms Heliotrope belched, her hand fluttering over her chest. She glanced around the carriage apologetically.

"Ugh, sorry! Where are my charcoal tablets? All this is doing nothing for my indigestion," Ms Heliotrope said, sounding like she had a mouth full of marbles. She searched through her little striped reticule and Diana shifted closer into her corner, catching Maria's eye: they both smiled and mimed along with Ms Heliotrope as she complained her usual complaint; "I'm an absolute _martyr_ to my stomach." The carriage trundled along and Celestine shrieked as a wayward untrimmed branch stuck itself inside the carriage through the open-window, and Diana almost dropped her book as she leaned forward to watch the trees whirr past in a haze of sun-dappled green.

"Diana, how can we _possibly_ live in the country?" Maria gaped incredulously. To Maria, anything that didn't go her way was a supreme nuisance and therefore not worth her trouble or time: there was no rhyme or order in the countryside, and that would give Maria some trouble to deal with, that she couldn't control it. "It's full of…the _countryside_." Diana chuckled and shook her head, scratching Tybalt behind his ears, which made him kick out his little hind leg and close his eyes luxuriously.

"Think of all the pets we may keep," Diana said, happily. She and Maria both knew how to wind Ms Heliotrope up: Diana loved animals and had always longed for a horse of her own; Ms Heliotrope suffered nervous complaints and fainting spells whenever Diana brought a new animal home and even the mere suggestion of riding made Ms Heliotrope's nerves flutter anxiously. "I'll wager you Uncle Benjamin keeps _horses_ on his estate." She laughed at Ms Heliotrope's expression and caught Maria's eye with a twinkle in her own and squeaked as the carriage lurched and they all found themselves in a heap in the foot-space amongst the smaller pieces of their luggage.

"My darling Diana, Maria, there is only _one_ thing that can save us now," Ms Heliotrope gasped, rifling into her overnight bag. Maria followed suit in her carpetbag and Diana smiled on as they proceeded to pull out their embroidery frames, and she took out a handkerchief she had been embroidering. "Classical French needlepoint." She kept looking out the window, though, and smiled as the scenery became more and more rustic, as if time had stopped still: they began an incline up a smooth, green hill towards something that looked distinctly fortress-like, a gate with a stone wall built around it.

As Digweed pulled the carriage to a stop, Diana could hear him humming, the horses snorting and a bird screech loudly somewhere: it was _quiet_ here, with only the playful songs of little skylarks and nightingales and little rustles of grass where little animals skittered away from the carriage and the horses in fright.

"What's happening?" Maria asked: she always had to be in the know, and be in charge. She didn't like not knowing things, which made Diana's job as her elder-sister very difficult at times.

"It looks like a gate," Diana said, but Maria had to see for herself and stuck her head out of their window; Ms Heliotrope peered out of hers. "Have we arrived?" Maria asked Digweed, but Diana could still hear Digweed humming, and the jangle of heavy keys.

"Is he _deaf_ or something?" Ms Heliotrope asked impatiently. "The man is obviously a halt-wit." Diana couldn't help but laugh, and seeing that they had stopped for a little while, she stuck her head out of the window to look down the path they had come up. It was so lovely and quiet and peaceful, nothing for absolutely miles around.

She screamed in shock as two large hands grabbed her from above and started almost throttling her, a male voice demanding, "_Where are they_?"

Instant pandemonium as the man accosted her, Maria and Ms Heliotrope screamed: Ms Heliotrope seemed to be walloping a second member of the band of brigands with her cane and Celestine hissed and shrieked and there were two male yells of pain as Maria stabbed her embroidery needle across Diana's attacker's hand and the second brigand was attacked by Celestine's sharp claws and a bite from normally mild-tempered Tybalt.

Diana was released, the carriage door was slammed shut, and the vehicle lurched to a start as Digweed, completely oblivious to their plight, urged the horses on with a friendly click of his tongue. Diana gasped for breath, settling back into her seat as her heartbeat returned to normal and her hands stopped trembling. She had never been attacked in her entire life and she had grown up in _London_—a very expensive, safe part of London, but the capital nonetheless. Now, hundreds of miles from all of civilisation, their carriage had been set upon by good-for-nothing thieves!

"Who were they?" Maria asked, clinging to their governess. Diana gulped and let her hand flutter to her throat, relieved to feel a tiny piece of cold metal brush against her skin: it was the miniature heart-shaped gold locket her Mama had given her before she died. Diana wore it with everything, over her lace blouses, with her beautiful evening gowns, always suspended from a thin length of pretty ribbon. She was very glad she had not lost it to an imbecile who wouldn't know how much to sell it on for. "What did they want?" Maria stared at Diana, as if Diana should know all the answers. She just shook her head, dazed.

The way the man had grabbed her, going straight for her neck, and his yells to his comrade to "search the old one" made it seem like they'd…been _looking_ for something, as if they'd known this carriage would be stopping there at that particular point on the road, and they had something specific they needed from it—from them. Diana shivered and settled deeper into her seat, glad of now-docile Celestine purring in her lap and Tybalt nuzzling her hand with his little wet black nose.

"Don't worry, my dears, Sir Benjamin will protect us," Ms Heliotrope said, her voice quivering with nerves. Diana was astounded she hadn't fainted upon the attack, but the people she knew the best had always been the ones who surprised her the most—or the _worst_, in Papa's case. "I'm sure of that."

They were inside Moonacre Valley now, and Diana calmed down as they gradually made their way down the hill into the valley itself; the sun had just set and the moon was gradually rising, bigger than Diana had ever seen it, but still faint because of the lingering early-summer light: the valley was almost flat in the very lowest part, with a large lake that glittered in the remnants of sunlight, and there were two distinct households that she could see—one, a tumbledown four-towered fortress, the other, the one Digweed guided the horses to, a great sprawling mansion with a few turrets and towers and lots of glittering windows and large grounds, she could see from above the valley; all of the hills and some of the valley was carpeted with thick forestry, and flatlands were squared off unevenly into little fields or else left for great flocks of freshly-shorn sheep and cows.

Moonacre mansion was the grand old manor-house, but as they got closer, going along a winding path through what were the grounds that desperately needed grooming, Diana saw that it wasn't as grand as it had appeared before; it seemed to be falling apart, the grounds overgrown. The windows were empty of light without the sunshine falling on it as they approached, and in general it had quite an eerie feel to it.

Digweed pulled the horses to a gentle stop in front of the main antechamber and the open front-door, and three bonneted heads appeared in Diana's window to peer out. Digweed stretched before coming to open the carriage door, smiling tiredly. "Ladies." Diana collected her things, making sure Tybalt was secure in her bag and instead carrying Celestine under her arm as she picked up her reticule and parasol and her little carpet-bag, and Digweed smiled as he took Celestine out of her arms so she could climb down the steps without tripping on her embroidered and ruffled underskirt. Ms Heliotrope followed with a blurt as she slipped down the step, and Maria helpfully took Celestine from Digweed as she climbed out with many rustles of her extravagantly-decorated skirt.

The large front-doors were open and up a flight of steps there stood a tall man with an imposing figure, completely doused in shadows. Prickles of fear went up Diana's spine and she jumped when a strong voice rang out. "Welcome to Moonacre." The man stepped down the stairs and paused just outside the front-doors, so that he was no longer in shadow.

Uncle Benjamin was younger than Diana had expected: she had never known whether he was older or younger than Papa, but he was clearly younger; his hair was still dark like Diana had remembered Papa's to be before his troubles began, and he had very few lines in his face; if he hadn't looked so stern, Diana might have called him handsome. "Unfortunate circumstances. But there we are. Nothing to be done." Uncle Benjamin had a pleasant voice, at least, if a little solemn, but there was a perpetual frown weighing down his dark eyes.

_Maria_ had their uncle's eyes. Wide dark eyes set slightly far apart, with fair eyebrows, the same eyes as their father. Diana had their mother's looks, with sunshine-blonde hair and exquisite green eyes.

"Thank you for having us, Uncle," Diana said softly, stepping forward. Her hands laden down with things, all she could do was give him a sad smile: Maria was nudged forward by Ms Heliotrope and she stuck out her arm.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Uncle," she said politely, but stiffly: Ms Heliotrope still had yet to educate Maria in the finer details of etiquette. Uncle Benjamin ignored the proffered hand and glanced at their governess.

"Ms Heliotrope," he nodded. Diana wondered who he knew who she was; she hadn't planned on joining them before this morning, so how did Uncle Benjamin know who she was?

"Oh—Sir Benjamin—what a journey we've _had_!" Ms Heliotrope stammered, clutching her heart. Diana hoped she didn't faint; her smelling-salts were packed up in her trunk. "Oh—not one _hour_ from this very door, we were _accosted_ by a bunch of _ruffians_—"

"Madam, please, I'll hear your fascinating story some other time, if I may," Uncle Benjamin said, cutting her off boredly, and turned into the house, going up the stairs with his hands clasped behind his back. Diana glanced at Maria;

"_He's very rude_," Maria whispered to her, frowning. Diana shrugged and switched her carpetbag for Celestina, who was squirming in Maria's arms, and they all went upstairs into the marble foyer. It was dark inside, no candles lit, and it was a big, cool room with the walls painted with a delicate pattern of something like cherry blossoms. The fireplace was elaborately carved with animals and the fire was lit, shedding light onto the enormous, wolf-like dog sitting, panting with his tongue lolling, and Diana stopped, staring, as his eyes glowed ruby-red. But he was _beautiful_, big and strong and powerful. Ms Heliotrope squeaked and Maria gasped; Diana beamed: Pets were allowed here.

"His name is Wrolf," Uncle Benjamin said, hands still clasped behind his back as the enormous dog barked at them, sitting at attention between a broken-in old armchair and a dainty little seat embroidered in places with colourful butterflies. "There are those who find him alarming." Diana smiled, not really listening to her uncle's words, and Ms Heliotrope fluttered as Diana stooped to a kneel in front of Wrolf, stretching her hand out to stroke his neck and scratch his ears; he growled low in his throat and nuzzled Diana's hand; instantly his demeanour changed and he wagged his long tail. "He can kill in an instant." Ms Heliotrope gasped, fluttering again, and Maria's skirts brushed against the dusty floor as she backed away subtly. Celestine raised her nose imperiously to look at Wrolf, declared herself disinterested and lolled back in Diana's arms, completely unaffected by the brutish dog that could easily have swallowed her in two bites. "But you and Miss Diana are both Merryweathers. He very probably will not harm _you_."

Wrolf barked at Maria, and stood up to lurch at the carpetbag, wagging his tail; Tybalt's little bark seemed infantile in comparison to Wrolf's, but Wrolf only licked Tybalt from nose to tail and settled back by Uncle Benjamin's chair, satisfied he'd inspected all the new members of the house.

"Come, I will show you to your rooms," Uncle Benjamin said, and scooped Tybalt out of Diana's carpetbag to carry, with a lit candle, up the stairs. Up the grand white-marble staircase, Uncle Benjamin stopped them in the heart of the house, before the wall of windows that overlooked what had once been a pretty network of hedges and flowerbeds in front of the house; the candle-sconces on the walls, gold like the one in Uncle Benjamin's hand and wrought like sea-coral, had been lit along this corridor but the end was still dark, broken by the moonlight through the curtain-less windows. Everything was dark and gloomy, as if a spell had been cast on the house, like _Sleeping Beauty_, and she noticed the scarcity of furniture. If Uncle Benjamin was rich—and he _was_, since he had paid their father's debts once Papa had been killed—then why would he let everything fall apart like it had? Wasn't he house-proud? _This great place, he should be_,Diana thought. Diana wasn't proud, like Maria was, like Papa was, but like her mother before her, she was unfortunately cursed with a little bit of vanity.

"Ms Heliotrope, your room is over there, on the right," Uncle Benjamin said boredly, gesturing down the end of the corridor, and Ms Heliotrope fluttered past him holding her overnight things.

"Yes—thank you, Sir Benjamin—come along, girls, I'm sure your bedroom will be next to mine," Ms Heliotrope said, and Diana detected her nervousness. This _was_ a big, empty house and there _was_ a big, red-eyed dog that would most _probably_ not harm Merryweathers.

"No, the girls' room is up in the tower," Uncle Benjamin corrected, and Ms Heliotrope's face fell. Diana glanced into the antechamber Uncle Benjamin gestured into and saw the stairs winding up in a spiral.

"But, Uncle, I—" Maria blurted, before Diana nudged her: Ms Heliotrope had been in the bedroom next to theirs since Maria was born; it was a lot easier when Maria cried out during the night (Diana was a heavy sleeper) to get to them when she was next-door. Diana had already made her way through the open doorway and Uncle Benjamin followed, frowning at Maria.

"Perhaps you'd like to _inspect_ your room first before you turn your nose up at it," Uncle Benjamin scolded slightly, and gestured Diana up the stairs: _There must be a little goodness in him_, Diana thought, glancing back down the spiral staircase to see him coddling Tybalt. _He likes animals_.

At the top of the staircase was a lovely little parlour, with two armchairs like the butterfly chair in the hall, a lovely little table, two footstools, a very pretty upright piano and a low dresser with cupboards, and a large wooden sewing-box with lion's feet and a gold keyhole. The armchairs were two sizes, one Maria-sized, the other fitting for a young lady of Diana's proportions: Maria's had only a curved, low back like the armchair downstairs but Diana's had a comfortably reclined full back. Maria's was upholstered in forget-me-not blue and embroidered with dragonflies like brilliant jewels of tourmaline and emerald, while Diana's armchair was of a very pale, lovely rosy mauve, embroidered with delicate hydrangeas, pale peonies and sweet roses. There was a fireplace, and two sconces flanked it from above. There were only several narrow windows like those of an ancient castle for archers, but most of the light they needed came from the fireplace and several wall-mounted candle sconces.

There were also two doors. One Maria sized, one Diana-sized: they both had four steps leading up to them with a beautiful curved golden banister. Uncle Benjamin gestured at the doors, frowned, handed Tybalt back to Diana, and departed without another word as soon as Maria had climbed the stairs.

"Goodnight Uncle," they both sang after him—Maria somewhat tauntingly: Maria caught Diana's eye.

"_Charmed_, I'm _sure_," Maria said tartly, smirking, and frowned around the little chamber, wiping her fingers across the empty wall beside her; Diana saw her wrinkle her nose as she examined the thick coat of bluish-grey dust on her fingertips, but Diana was too entranced with how thoughtfully everything had been picked out and placed; how did they know that Diana preferred to sit closer to the fire while Maria always liked to have a gentle breeze if she sat next to the fire, and that if they were sat down, Miss Heliotrope was always adamant they were working on something—she was of the old-fashioned school that "idle hands were the devil's workshop" and always had them embroidering something or reading; when they were little it was so they couldn't get into mischief.

"Well…Goodnight, Mashka," she smiled, using the pet-name one of their old maids, who had been born Russian, had given Maria when she was a baby.

"Goodnight, Duscha," Maria smiled tiredly. Diana went to her door and up the steps; on the door was a tiny little knocker in the shape of a horseshoe, polished so brightly it shone like silver. She opened the door with a click of the latch that seemed very friendly and welcoming, and entered her new bedroom: Maria's door squeaked as she opened it. Celestine and Tybalt both squirmed in her arms, making bids for freedom and she let them go: she straightened up once inside the room and gasped, staring.

The bedroom was a tower-room, so it was oddly shaped; she counted the walls; eight; octagonal. But it was absolutely the prettiest room she had ever set foot in. And, as with the little parlour, somebody seemed to have taken into account all of her personal tastes when redecorating. Maria hated pink because it clashed with her hair: Diana loved it, and she loved everything beautiful and delicate. It was quite a grown-up room, but absolutely lovely, not dowdy; feminine and perfect for a young lady.

The walls were painted a warm, rusty pink, and in each corner of the room, all eight of them, carved and moulded white-plaster roses climbed their way up the walls to join, thick and beautiful, in the centre of the ceiling around a green circle; inside the circle was a circular window, almost a dome, and she could see, even in such a small space, hundreds of stars glittering down. There was a large fireplace on the right; the mantelpiece was carved of the most lustrous, glowing gold Maplewood, which had also been carved with roses. Beside the fireplace was a full-length mirror of Maplewood and a wash-table with a ceramic basin and ewer painted with rusty-pink roses. On the left was the bed, a lovely, delicate bed made of Maplewood with a beautifully carved headboard draped with two folds of diaphanous pale-gold silk chiffon. The pale-gold silk coverlet was embroidered with beautiful pink roses and gold butterflies, and the pillowcases were trimmed with lace and rose-pink ribbon.

Her mother's beautiful little Maplewood dressing-table had been brought in a wagon and set up with a little mirror framed with tiny shells and starfish, with two tiny flower-shaped oil-lamps, a little dish made of mother-of-pearl and a pretty jewellery-box and a candelabrum, and a delicate writing desk with a little glass orb akin to the one her Mama used to use for her exquisite little needlework and a very pretty writing-set of cut-crystal stylus-pens and pretty stationery and a seal with _M_ set into it, and beneath the sole bay-window (which was diamond-panelled and had a lovely deep seat with a thick, soft gold cushion) was a low dresser for her things, which had been brought up by Digweed and stood neatly for her to unpack. There were two lancet-windows but the bay faced south and so would have sunlight all day; there were delicate, pretty lamps hanging from the walls and on every surface was either a candelabrum or a delicate little oil-lamp, with the glass fashioned like a blossoming flower.

Diana let Celestine and Tybalt explore the room and she went to her largest trunk and opened it, picking up the little box she had pierced with needles for air-holes, and opened the box. Diana's pet dormice, Peachwood and Rhubarb, flicked their tickly whiskers, poking their little pink noses out of the box, blinking their little ink-drop eyes. Miss Eager, their house-keeper, had scolded Diana for keeping them and had told her not to bring them to her grand Uncle's house.

"But where else would you go?" Diana cooed, smiling at the little mice that nestled on Celestine's paws, where they always slept. _They would likely end up a tomcat's dinner._

Exhausted from the day's travels and the fright of being set upon by brigands, black and blue all over from being jostled about on that rather unforgiving carriage seat, Diana wearily started to undress, changing into her nightgown and bed-jacket, blew out the candles and slipped into bed, where Tybalt woke just long enough to reclaim his place on Diana's feet, and Celestine purred, curled up beside Diana's pillow, Peachwood and Rhubarb snuggling up in tiny little balls on Celestine's paws again. _Maria can do without me to help her undress for one night_, she thought, and fell into a deep, still sleep.

* * *

**A.N.**: I admit I made changes—but they were necessary to my storyline.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N.**: I have also uploaded another _Moonacre_ fic called 'Claws Away, Kitten!' which is my interpretation of what would happen if a girl raised in our time (2009) had to go and live in Moonacre without electricity, which means no iPods, no cars, no CD-players, no _lights_, no microwaves! I'd probably commit mass homicide out of boredom! Anyway, just wanted to let y'all know that! So please check out that story and review on this one!

* * *

Morning dawned bright and beautiful, filling the tower-room with sunshine from the east, and the sound of little birds singing everywhere. Diana woke up slowly, still clinging to dreamland, and squirmed and stretched luxuriously under her warm, heavy duvet, scrunching her eyes in the light and catching sight of something on the sinuously-carved bedside table. She sat up, dislodging Celestine from her stomach, and Diana saw there was a delicate little gold plate of biscuits decorated with icing, and a pretty glass goblet etched with a floral motif filled with milk: she picked up the plate and felt how chilled the milk was. It was fresh, too, and somehow tasted nicer than the milk they had at home. She picked up one of the biscuits; there was a hedgehog, a bird and a deer, all decorated with white icing. And they were lovely, tangy ginger-biscuits, too! Diana's favourite.

She decapitated the deer before making her mind up to get out of bed early; a pair of slippers, warmed as if they had been by the fire all night, waited at the side of her bed, and she wiggled her toes, smiling at the luxury, carried her milk and biscuits and made her way to Maria's bedroom. It wasn't like Diana's: everything was blue, cool, and themed after the sea. The edges of the octagonal walls were highlighted with thick bamboo canes, breaking up a panoramic scene painted on the walls that she recognised to be the scene of Moonacre Valley as it was set out, with everything painted on the walls in exact correspondence to wherever they appeared outside.

The large bed was inspired by waves and spread with a soft waffle-weave duvet and crochet-embroidered throws and pillowcases. There was a pretty dressing-table and in the corner beside it was a glass washstand with two soft towels waiting for Maria, and on the other side of the door was a lovely cushioned armchair with a pretty, embroidered duck-egg cushion. Beyond the cliffs painted on the walls was a beautiful fireplace, carved out of stone with a unicorn riding the waves, with shells filling the gaps. The windows were all like portholes, except pretty. Like Diana's room, there was a little dresser and a desk, but there was no bay-window.

"Look at this place," Diana whispered, as the door closed behind her. She looked around the room and stepped further into it, glancing upwards when something twinkling caught her eye—the stars painted on the ceiling_ moved_, glowing beautifully, though the room was growing lighter; and there, in the middle of her big bed, lay Princess Maria. Diana tutted softly to herself, amused, and went to sit atop the trunk lying at the foot of Maria's bed, after noticing a purple fur-trimmed, antiquated dress draped over the armchair. Gradually Maria woke, mostly because of Diana's munching and then Tybalt's worried coos because he couldn't see his Mamma.

"Good morning," Diana smiled, as Maria settled back lazily against her pillows, and Diana stroked Tybalt as he curled dutifully in her lap. She munched on her biscuit, frowning thoughtfully.

"I wonder where these came from!" Maria said, sighing luxuriously. Diana finished the last of her biscuits and eyed Maria's stash on the wavelike bedside table built into the frame of the bed.

"I'm not going to complain about them!" Diana giggled softly. This was the loveliest morning she had ever woken up early for—she could still see the sun just peeking over the four-towered castle: _It must be quite early still_, she thought: Diana wasn't an early-riser by nature. Maria was the opposite, and it surprised her that Diana had woken first: Maria got out of bed and crossed to the chair, where the purple velvet dress with an elaborate _L_ embroidered on the left wrist had been left. Maria picked up the dress and held it to her body, frowning.

"Oh no. No, I think not," she said tartly, and Diana choked a laugh, downing the last of her milk. Maria crossed the room to her trunk, which had been brought up as well as the biscuits and milk, and Diana rolled her eyes as Maria took out one of her cut-out crinolette frocks. This one was one of Maria's favourites, with a opalescent off-pink silk body and a tall salmon-pink trim on the skirt, a large fuchsia ribbon at the back, and irises embroidered on the sleeves, bodice and the strange lapels Diana had never liked. Maria washed with water from her silver ewer that was just the right temperature and Diana helped her get dressed, making sure not to tug on Maria's corset-strings too tight.

She remembered the days when Bettie, their old maid, used to help Diana get dressed: she would pull Diana's corset-strings so tight that, once, Diana had fainted; luckily a very suave gentleman who had taken a fancy to Diana's pretty eyes had been able to revive her, causing a scandal when he undid the strings of her dress and corset _in public_. She licked her lips, remembering how heartily she had kissed him in the cloakroom at the next ball she had attended. And Maria was still a young girl—though she was a _growing_ girl, she was still of the tender age where a lot of damage could be done if she didn't take the right sort of care. She was lucky to have an elder sister, one who wasn't at all like Bitter Bettie. She tugged on the corset-strings and tied them, helped Maria on with her frilly bustle-pad, tied her petticoat around her waist and then helped her on with her frock: she tied the laces at the back of the bodice, and then helped Maria with her hair.

"Wait for me to dress, Maria, then we'll go down to breakfast," Diana smiled, and scooped up Tybalt before descending the stairs out of Maria's bedroom. It was when she almost plummeted to her death tripping over the hem of her peignoir that she noticed the painting.

It was the woman from the _Chronicles_, the Moon Princess—only this painting was a lot darker, and her eyes were filled with sadness, though she was still smiling. She wore a dress of midnight-blue silk-velvet trimmed with beautiful pearls and her hair had been piled up onto her head in beautiful curling locks of dark gold. She stood against a forest backdrop, which was at the same time very beautiful and very _dark_, almost scary.

She tore her eyes away from the nameless Moon Princess and turned back into her bedroom: she looked out of the bay-window (which overlooked a lovely rose-garden absolutely overflowing with so many roses that the scent of them, when she opened the window, was almost enough to make her ill—almost) and decided on what to wear based on the flawless forget-me-not sky.

Diana's gowns were almost natural-form, with only an elegant drag to the back of her skirts in a slight train that never hindered walking or exercise; she preferred either very delicate colours and fabrics or rich, decadent ones; chiffon and embroidered silk were her favourites, lace and velvet for trims. Today, her first day in Moonacre, she picked out the lacy high-necked, three-quarter sleeved blouse she had just finished making, and one of her favourite skirts: the overskirt was a pale-pink cotton printed with dainty vertical garlands of little flowers, while the underskirt was a plain, lovely pale eucalyptus-green, revealed by the overskirt being swathed up like a sort of apron in delicate swags front and bag, trimmed with a delicate peony-pink satin ribbon and needle-lace she had spent forever working on. The sash she chose to ornament her tiny waist with was a beautiful pale marigold-yellow silk mousseline to match the pretty buttercups printed on her skirt, and she tied her mother's locket around her throat with a length of powder-blue ribbon to match the forget-me-nots. She dressed quickly, but meticulously, and did her hair up with a delicate diamond pin, did up the buttons on her soft black leather boots and made sure her hair was lovely. She picked out the forget-me-not silk drawstring reticule she had made and decorated with silk roses, and slipped into it her little leather book of poems and her tiny copy of Jane Austen's _Pride and Prejudice_, her favourite, with Tybalt's little lead and bundled puppy up in her arms. Maria sat in the parlour in the dragonfly chair, clutching Papa's strange book in her lap.

"What are you going to do with that?" Diana asked, frowning.

"_Read_ it, you silly goose," Maria said tartly, and Diana smacked her round the back of her pretty copper head, sticking her tongue out when her sister tried to retaliate as she walked to the stairs.

"I meant why are you taking it downstairs? We'll have to have breakfast first," she said. Tybalt would have to wait for his walk for a few more minutes. "Oh—hang on, I've forgotten my hat—You go down, I'll meet you in the corridor." Diana turned back into her bedroom and found her hat-box, which was filled with her favourite and newest hats and bonnets. She found her loveliest straw bonnet lined with pink satin, which was trimmed with pale yellow ribbon embroidered with purplish forget-me-nots, and several pale pink silk roses.

"_Diana_, are you coming?" Maria called, and she heard Maria's huff before her heeled boots clicked in the corridor below. Diana shrugged, taking hold of the ribbons and the strings of her reticule, and scratched Tybalt's ears, talking gently to him as she slipped downstairs.

"I think you'll like it here, Tybalt," she sighed. "Lots of places for you to run about for walks. I'll bet you Wrolf will play with you, too." She heard Uncle Benjamin's voice in the downstairs hallway, and then Maria's indignant shout for their governess.

"Oh dear. Maria's bloomers are in a knot already," Diana sighed to Tybalt, who snuffled at her blouse sympathetically.

"_Tell him_—tell him he _can't_ take my father's from me," she heard Maria shout, and hastened her way downstairs.

"Maria? Good gracious!" Ms Heliotrope blurted, staring across the well-endowed dining-table at Maria. "Where's your self-restraint?"

"What's going on?" Diana asked, stepping into the dining-room and smiling at Digweed, who offered Tybalt a little treat and stroked his head, smiling.

"Uncle Benjamin _stole_ Papa's book!" Maria whirled around. "Don't you think he ought to give it back? Diana, you must tell him to return it!"

"Maria!" Ms Heliotrope said loudly, cutting her off, her expression utterly bewildered by Maria's uncharacteristic outburst: Maria was, by nature, a rather internal person: one could only ever sense anger in her because her expression turned extremely sour; otherwise it was almost impossible to tell what mood she was in. Miss Heliotrope had yet to grasp the pattern Diana's moods took; they changed so frequently and absurdly that she had long since learned to live with Diana for who she was, rather than try and mould her into a proper well-bred lady of society who _never_ showed anything but a smiling face to the world. Diana had her emotions on her sleeve, unlike Maria. Papa used to say Diana was 'tumultuous, and very, _very_ intense.' She had always liked that description of herself.

"Uncle has every right to take the book," Diana said soothingly: She knew Maria didn't like it when she took Miss Heliotrope's side in anything, from lowering the hem of her dresses to giving her another few farthings pocket-money. "It _does_ belong to us, but we belong to Uncle now. He's probably just keeping it safe in the library."

"See, there," Ms Heliotrope nodded, agreeing with Diana. "Sit down and eat your porridge—Diana, why did you bring that wretched creature in here?"

"You want me to take Maria away?" Diana asked, batting her eyelashes innocently. Digweed chuckled softly but Ms Heliotrope didn't understand Diana's sharp wit. Digweed settled Maria into a chair and Diana took the one beside hers, closer to the head of the table where a place was set for Uncle Benjamin.

"That will be your breakfast, then, Miss Diana, Miss Maria," Digweed said, smiling as he placed two delicately-painted bowls of porridge in front of the girls. Tybalt stood up in Diana's lap, sniffing at what had been set in front of his wet little nose, and Diana pulled him gently into a sitting position as Uncle Benjamin strode into the room.

"Good morning, Uncle," Diana smiled cheerfully, undeterred by his persevering frown. He nodded curtly as Digweed pulled his chair out for him.

"Good morning, Diana," he said shortly, eyeing Tybalt's nose. "I trust you slept well."

"Very," Diana smiled. He really wasn't as bad as they'd all thought last night; like Papa he wasn't as mean as he looked. "Thank you for our bedrooms, Uncle. Maria and I both love them."

"They _are_ some of the most beautiful in the house," Uncle said, spreading butter on his bread.

"Maria, Diana, you must try these _delicious_ cheesy scrambled-eggs," Ms Heliotrope said emphatically: Ms Heliotrope tended to eat extraordinarily quickly and that owed to her constant indigestion.

"Mm…A dish best enjoyed in silence, so I'm told," Uncle Benjamin sighed, buttering the second slice of toast. Diana smirked into her heavy, oddly-shaped spoon and glanced at her uncle, trying not to smile too much. Ms Heliotrope was the worst example of what female company was: Papa had always likened her to Mrs Bennett in _Pride and Prejudice_, unable to keep her mouth shut for two seconds together.

"Oh—oh, interesting," Ms Heliotrope smiled blithely. Diana wished there was some sugar on the table for her porridge; she ate a spoonful and sat up straighter, shocked. She had never liked plain porridge, not without some cream or milk or a little bit of sugar, but this was absolutely…_heavenly_. Creamier and sweeter than any other porridge she'd ever tasted, she had eaten the bowl clean in seconds, and Digweed whisked it away for a second-helping, smiling. She watched Uncle Benjamin pour beer or ale or some other dark-amber liquid into a large glass from a white pitcher, and she noticed Maria had barely touched her bowl of porridge, her hands fiddling in her lap.

"Uncle, you really ought to return our father's book to us," Maria said, glancing past Diana, who shot her a warning frown. They all watched Uncle Benjamin take a raw egg from a little dish, crack it twice against the rim of his glass, and let the egg fall a foot into the glass with a splash.

_Ugh! He _isn't_ going to _drink_ that, is he?_ she thought, her stomach turning, shivering at the very idea.

"Well—you certainly have a very, _very_ good cook, Sir Benjamin," Ms Heliotrope complimented smilingly. "Have you—have you had her long?"

"Madam, no woman has set foot inside this house for years," Uncle Benjamin said, leaning on the table with his spoon poised over his porridge. "And believe me, the silence has been _blissful_." Diana choked on her porridge as she smiled and hid her mouth behind her handkerchief so Ms Heliotrope couldn't see her smile: her uncle's mouth twitched and she swore he winked at her as he turned back to his porridge.

"Well—I must say—this country food is doing _wonders_ for my trapped wind," Ms Heliotrope declared, and Diana choked on her tea as her uncle's spoon fell with a clatter onto the porridge-bowl.

"Cat's teeth! Can't a man enjoy a meal in his _own home _in _silence_?" he shouted indignantly, and Diana felt her cheeks flush hotly, knowing she shouldn't enjoy watching how much Ms Heliotrope annoyed her uncle. She hid her smile in her teacup and tried not to choke.

"Well do tell us, Uncle," Maria said scathingly from Diana's left-hand, and Diana stared at her sister. "Why _did_ you invite such _irritating_, _noisy_ females into your nice, quiet house?"

"Maria, where are your manners?" Diana said quietly, frowning at her sister. Maria was proud and headstrong, but she had never been outwardly rude: she just bottled everything up to rant and rage in the diary she kept under her pillow. Diana glanced at their uncle, knowing two likeminded individuals would no doubt bring out the worst in each other.

"My useless brother dies in debt, and it falls on _me_ to take you in," Uncle Benjamin sighed. "The man was a cowardly good-for-nothing."

"Sir _Benjamin_!" Ms Heliotrope scolded, and Maria stood up abruptly.

"How _dare_ you say that?" Maria shouted, leaning across Diana's plate. "_My _father was a _Colonel_."

"Yes, and he died in debt, owing money to half the regiment!" Uncle Benjamin shouted back. Diana shrank into her chair, stroking Tybalt as he shivered. Tybalt didn't like arguments, any more than Diana did. Papa had shouted a lot before he was killed.

"Maria, sit—"

"He _fought_ for his _country_," Maria snarled at Uncle.

"And got himself killed in a back-alley gambling-den," Uncle Benjamin said, glaring at Maria. Diana raised a hand to her eyes and covered them. She hadn't told anybody that, not even Ms Heliotrope: she had paid their old footman to follow Papa when he started disappearing in the evenings, always coming home raving, drunk, and sometimes with black eyes. She had only ever told Uncle Benjamin in her letters asking him for help. She gulped down a breath and glanced at her uncle; his eyes were fixed on Maria. "Borrowed money once too many times from the wrong types of money-lenders…He wouldn't take money from me, would he? Oh _no…_damned fool and his _pride_."

"Excuse me," Diana half-whispered, rising from the table, clutching Tybalt to her stomach. She left her chair where it was and strode around the table as quickly as she could.

"Diana, where are you going?" Ms Heliotrope called as she left the dining-room.

"To take Tybalt for his _walk_," Diana shouted over her shoulder as she crossed the hallway to the steps down to the front-door.

"Stay out of the forest!" Uncle Benjamin called after her, and the door slammed shut heavily behind her as she tugged on it, securing Tybalt's lead to his little jewelled collar. She placed her bonnet carefully on her head, careful of her hair, and secured the jolly yellow ribbons under her chin in a neat, little bow. She purposefully didn't like to use too-thick ribbon for her bonnets because she had a very lovely neck, and didn't like to disguise it too much. She set off, walking with Tybalt.

* * *

**A.N.**: Please review kindly!

* * *


	4. ADOPTION NOTIFICATION

**Adoption Notification**

Due to the sheer number of stories accumulating on my profile-page, and the lack of interest I have in continuing some of them, I am therefore sorting out my profile, and if not deleting my stories, putting them up for adoption; this story is one of them. If you'd like to take on this story to finish it, please let me know. My Private Messaging service is available on my profile.

Sorry for disappointing you if you particularly loved this story.

Sincerely,

mellowenglishgal

or, Hannah


End file.
